


Wrong

by TheMewsAtTen



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMewsAtTen/pseuds/TheMewsAtTen
Summary: This is a *very* short interpretation of the 'I've never made sense . . .' scene in Toby's room, and what I think might have happened immediately after it.





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I'm returning to my multi-chapter 'Like Love' after a hiatus. I really lost confidence with it for a while there. 
> 
> So . . . I'm planning to try to write a few short bits and pieces, drabbles and whatnot, just to try to get my feel back for the two of them. I find that forcing myself into word counts, prompts etc really helps my focus (and to that end am open to prompts/suggestions!)
> 
> Usual boring stuff applies - I'm not making any money here (which I'm sure will be obvious!), no copyright infringement is intended and I don't own anything, I'm just having a play about.

Toby is barely conscious of the knock at the door. He’s fighting a losing battle with this damned tie. He’s been lost; preoccupied since . . . what happened.

“Come in,” he calls.

“I apologise for disturbing you,” Adil slips in, furtive. 

The sight of him makes Toby’s fingers feel unwieldy, like they belong to someone else. 

“No that’s fine,” he answers.

He understands Adil’s trepidation; recognises that it would be difficult to explain why he was here in Toby’s room if anyone saw him.

The thrill of rebellion quickens his pulse. _We’re_ _breaking the rules._

He keeps fiddling with his tie. It’s futile, but it gives his trembling hands something to do. 

“I was just . . . getting ready for work,” he explains needlessly.

“Mr Hamilton . . . what I did yesterday . . . it was wrong. And I . . . understand if you wish me to resign,” Adil mutters.

Toby peers at him in the mirror, replaying _Yesterday_ in his mind again.

That word. _Wrong_. For a moment he thinks he might die if Adil really means it.

“That’s not necessary. _Oh_ , this bloody thing . . .” Toby growls at the wretched, uncooperative tie, at the absurdity of it all.

He’s pretending to be a gentleman. Putting on the uniform, _playing_ at being Toby Hamilton. Pretending he’s in control.

A feckless marionette. 

Adil is turning away, towards the door. He’s leaving. Toby has to make him stay. For what, he isn’t sure. He only knows that he’s not ready for him to leave. Not with so much unsaid between them.

“I’m meant to be clever. To know how to analyse things. And break them down, understand all the patterns. But I have never made sense. Until yesterday,” Toby concedes defeat, giving up on the tie; on dressing like a man when he feels more like a child cast adrift. Clueless. Unequal to the task.

Adil’s eyes have widened, and softened, and he’s turned to Toby, walking towards him hesitantly as if he’s afraid he’ll bolt.

“Hello . . . _Toby_ ,” he purrs, a slight tremor of anxiety - or anticipation, perhaps - in his voice. 

It suddenly strikes Toby how vulnerable Adil is in this moment. Coming here, presumably expecting the most catastrophic of rejections.

They are two people on the precipice of something wonderful. Something terrifying. 

He feels their kisses in his spine, one after another, molten and burning.

Toby breaks away, eventually, his breath short, his cheeks flaming. He is achingly hard, and all from a few kisses. He would give himself, his whole self, to Adil, here and now and without hesitation. 

All he’d have to do is _ask._

“Don’t say it was wrong,” Toby breathes. He sounds like he’s begging. He’s not sure he cares, not right now. “Please. Don’t say it was wrong. Not when nothing I ever felt in my whole life felt so right as . . . you see, I can’t bear the thought of you thinking you were wrong. That this,  _we_ are . . .”

Adil just nods, almost imperceptibly. A fleeting look - a stunned sadness - flickers across his face.


End file.
